


Little Death Goddess

by Shadowblayze



Series: Fragments 'Verse [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblayze/pseuds/Shadowblayze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ament 'Kitty' Potter has always been quietly terrified of her brand of 'different'.  </p>
<p>Can a new, unexpected companion help her become comfortable in her own skin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Death Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> ―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―
> 
> Fem!Harry’s name:
> 
> Lily Potter’s wand was made out of wood from a Willow tree. The ‘flowers’ that appear on Willow trees are called catkin or ament. Ament is from the Latin word amentum and means ‘strap’ while catkin is an old Dutch loanword- derived from katteken- and means ‘kitten’.
> 
> Also, the ancient Egyptian Goddess Amentet (also known as Ament, Amentit, Imentet and Imentit) was the consort of Aken (the ferryman of the dead). Her name means "She of the west". This was not just a geographical statement, although some scholars consider that she originated from Libya (west of Egypt). 
> 
> As the sun set in the west, it was associated with death and the netherworld. The name Amentet referred to both the west bank of the Nile and to the world of the dead, and the dead were sometimes known as "westerners". Originally, Amenti (or Amentet) was considered to be the place where the sun set at the entrance to the netherworld, but the name was soon applied to cemeteries and tombs across Egypt.
> 
> As a goddess of the dead, Amentet is thought to have lived in a tree at the edge of the desert overlooking the gates to the underworld. She was often depicted in tombs and coffins, protecting the dead. However, she was also a fertility goddess. She met the souls of the recently deceased and offered them bread and water before ushering them into the realm of the dead. 
> 
> This sustenance revitalized them and prepared them for the rebirth of their souls and the trials they would face on their way to the "field of reeds" (paradise). (Totally borrowed from ancientegyptonline)  
> ―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament ‘Kitty’ Potter had lived with her Aunt, Uncle, and cousin for as long as she could remember.  That is to say, she knew she had arrived at their house in November of 1981 and it was now 1990, so _essentially_ her entire life.

The Dursleys weren’t particularly _pleasant_ people.  They made her sleep in a cupboard and she had to wear either Dudley’s old clothes or the horrid floral-patterned _monstrosities_ that her Aunt Petunia picked up at rummage sales.  (Her relatives were always telling whoever would listen that they were trying to make sure she grew up to ‘appreciate hard work and the value of money’, unlike her thoughtless parents.  Somehow, this meant wearing clothes that were far too large for her, but everyone on Privet Drive seemed to approve of the method.) 

She cooked breakfast and most of dinner, did far too many chores for a child her age, and had to endure long, prolific tirades about how much she was like her ‘wastrel parents’ and how lucky she was to ‘have a roof over your head’.

She wasn’t like, a slave, or anything.  Ament simply wasn’t allowed to be a kid and play, though.  There was always something that needed doing or she was to sit quietly in her cupboard while the Dursley family relaxed in the evening, if all of her chores were completed.  On the rare free afternoons or mornings that she had, she loved to hide out in the Surrey library, reading books about magic and fairytales that were considered contraband in the Dursley household.

It was her quiet little way of rebelling without actually getting into trouble.

Her cousin had tried to start a game called ‘Kitty Catching’, but fortunately she was a _girl. E_ ven her Aunt- _who seemed to live within a delusion wherein Dudley Dursley was a sweet, kind child_ \- had been forced to reprimand her precious Dudders, as hitting a girl was frowned upon, regardless of her reputation.

One of the things she liked most about herself was her name, but her relatives called her Kitty and other than the first day of school, everyone else did too.

Ament liked her real name, it was something different and exciting in the simulated fabricated perfection that was Privet Drive and the Dursley family.  However, every time someone actually called her ‘Ament’ instead of ‘Kitty’ her Aunt would go white with rage and stiffly inform the person to address the young girl as ‘Kitty’. Afterwards, Ament would spend the next week listening to Aunt Petunia make cutting comments about how Ament’s mother had _obviously_ not had any sense, as her name was only suited for those who worked in ‘unscrupulous professions’.

(When she was locked in her cupboard at night, Ament chose to close her eyes and dream about having wonderfully quirky parents who simply had vivid, marvelous imaginations.)

Still, she had a decent enough life.  Ament always reminded herself that things could have been worse- she could have been born a _boy_.

At least as a girl she was looked at much more closely, which meant that her relatives fed her well enough- _albeit_ _begrudgingly_ \- and her glasses were the correct prescription.

Ament _loathed_ the fact that she had to keep her deep red, nearly black hair short, though.

Her Aunt pounded on the cupboard door and the girl sighed as she readied herself for another dull, boring day.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Alternate Dimensions are a _fascinating concept_. 

Everything that could be different or changed from seemingly innocuous decisions were an amazing thing to behold and no one knew this more intimately than Byakuran Gesso.

There were some events, however, that transcended time and space.

Events such as the sealing of the Mare Rings by the Arcobaleno.

So even though fourteen-year-old Byakuran held the Sky Mare Ring, it was still only possible for him to use it while he was asleep due to the fact that that particular event affected all the Mare Rings, across all dimensions.

As previously mentioned, Alternate Dimensions are all at least a little different from each other.  In this particular dimension, Giotto never disbanded the Vongola militia, so Elena never died, which meant that Daemon Spade never went insane, so Giotto stayed as the head of the Vongola Organization much longer.

Ricardo, Giotto’s first cousin, never became Secondo.  Instead Ricardo formed the Varia to complement Alaude’s CEDEF organization, which allowed Giotto to firmly lay the foundations of the Vongola.

Federico, Giotto’s son, became the Second Boss of the Vongola when he was twenty.  Giotto moved to Japan shortly thereafter.

So while the Vongola still _existed_ , it hadn’t strayed too far from being what Giotto had wanted it to be- meaning  while the Vongola dealt with the Underworld, they were not truly _Mafia_.  Oh, if someone started a fight, the Vongola would finish it- but they also worked with the police when they deemed it necessary and had many legitimate businesses.

The Giglio Nero Association and the Simon Company were their closest partners, of course.  However, since the Vongola never descended into the legacy of sin that it did in most dimensions, most Flame users were not strictly criminals.  Most were simply employees of one of the aforementioned companies, and while they _could_ use their Flames to fight, most of the time there wasn’t an actual demand to do so.

The Flame users were perfectly aware of the magical society hidden among the masses, but they preferred to keep themselves separate from them as the magicals tended to be bizarrely insular.  The number of magical conflicts was also very worrying for the business giants.  It also really didn’t help matters that _most_ of Vongola and their associates’ business took place in the nonmagical world.

To keep from being discovered and manipulated and/or threatened, the Flame users had divisions of their companies dedicated solely to doing business with the magicals, (whose employees were magical themselves).  These divisions were named differently and entirely separate from the ‘parent’ company, in order to further distance them from any ‘muggle’ associations.

Yet, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Byakuran had been given the Mare Rings when he was twelve, and he was retrospectively thankful that they had been sealed only a few months afterwards, as the pressure from tapping into them- even by accident when his Flames flared- was _exhausting_.

Still, only being able to use his power when he was asleep was kind of annoying.

The white-haired preteen flopped down onto his bed with a sigh.  His illness was acting up again, and Italy was _disgustingly_ hot this summer.

It didn’t help that Byakuran was carrying the Mist Mare Ring as well as the Sky Mare Ring right now.

While the only ‘true’ Mare Ring owner currently in possession of their Ring was nineteen-year-old Kikyo, the other were being held by trustworthy subordinates of the Gesso Corporation.

Unfortunately they didn’t have anyone trustworthy enough to hold onto the Mist Ring, so Byakuran was stuck carrying it until they found someone.

The strain from holding them both caused Byakuran’s chronic illness to flare up more often, but it was better than having some moron getting ideas for world domination into their heads.

Byakuran groaned and burrowed further into his comfy bed, kicking his shoes off and idly mentally debating the effort to undress versus the desire to sleep.

He drifted off before he could make a decision.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament _knew_ that she’d closed her eyes while sitting under the maple tree inside her hidden little alcove in the Surrey Park just moments before.

However…….

This was _definitely_ not a dream she’d ever had before.

She was in a town, but not one she’d ever seen before, and there were people _who were on fire_ doing the most _amazing_ things.  Right in the streets!

The red-haired, green-eyed girl looked around in awe, drinking in the _inventiveness_ and _unnaturalness_ with childish glee.  A slow, pleased smile curled at her lips and she gave a small giggle as she raced after the black-haired boy with the sword.

The two combatants were speaking a foreign language, but Ament didn’t _care_ as she watched the boy spark fire from his ring and put it in a box, only for the box to spit out a bird that was _wreathed in flames_.

“This is the best dream _ever_!” Ament whispered excitedly.

“Hm, who are you?”

Ament whirled around at the sound of someone actually speaking to her, in English though it had an accent that she secretly found charming, “Who-who are you?”

The white-haired teen with the pretty violet eyes and upside down purple crown-thing tattooed under his eye just looked amused.  “Ah-ah~!  I asked first!”  The boy was dressed in an unbuttoned white button-up shirt with a black undershirt and black pants.

He looked really awesome to Ament.  Totally put together but in a self-assured, casual way that would make her relatives hate him.

“I’m Ament, Ament Potter.  What are you doing in my dream?”

The teen hummed contemplatively.  “I’m Byakuran Gesso.  I’m not in your dream, little death goddess, you’re somehow in mine.”

Ament blinked, “Little death goddess?  My name comes from flowers, it’s just a little different is all.”

This just seemed to amuse the strange teen.  “Ament is also an Egyptian death goddess.  Well, she can represent fertility as well.  Usually her name is Amentet, but Ament is a common disambiguation.”

“Wow, I had no idea!”  Ament babbled excitedly.  Her name was _so_ _awesome_!  “But, are you sure you’re not just part of my imagination?”

The boy closed his eyes and tipped his head back and he laughed.  “No, I’m very certain that you’re in mine, little death goddess.”

Ament crossed her arms and huffed, “What makes you so sure?  You’re probably just a figment of my imagination anyways”  The girl’s shoulders drooped a bit as she finished her statement, and she looked down at the ground, scuffing at the pavement morosely.

Byakuran’s eyes narrowed as he took in her posture and general appearance.  “Nope~!”  He belted out cheerfully, lifting up the hand that held the Mare Sky Ring and thrusting it into her line of sight.  “I have a magic ring you see!”

“There’s no such thing as magic!”  Ament said quickly, her head snapping up as she quickly glanced around for any sign of the Dursleys.  (It was an ingrained reflex, dream or not.)

“Oh?”  Byakuran murmured thoughtfully, quirking an eyebrow.  “And who told you that?”

“My _family_.”

“You don’t sound like you like them very much.”  Byakuran rejoined blandly to the girl who was once again looking down.

“They’re-well, they’re my Aunt and her husband and their son.  I’m an orphan so they took me in, they’re not bad really- just really obsessed with normal.”

Byakuran scoffed, “Normal is boring and _dull_.”

“Exactly!”  Ament replied exasperatedly as she looked up at him and waved her hands around for emphasis.  “I live in Boringville Village, England!  It’s-it’s-“

“Stifling?  Irritating?  Excruciating?”  Byakuran offered gamely.

“ _Precisely_!”  Ament burst out in hearty agreement.  There was a moment of silence and then they both laughed.  “T-thanks!”  Ament said as her giggles wore down.  “I needed that.”

“Ah-hn.  Anytime.”  Byakuran told her.  “But I am curious as to how you ended up in my dream.”

Ament bit her lip and idly played with the hem of the castoff shirt she was wearing.  “I don’t know.  I fell asleep under the maple tree at the park.”

“I’m taking a nap, too.”  Byakuran informed her glibly.  “It’s hot as hell in Italy this summer.”

“Oh!”  She said excitedly.  “You’re from Italy?  I’ve always wanted to visit, but the Dursleys never take me with them when they go on holiday.  ‘Waste of good money.’ They swear.  But when I grow up I want to visit _lots_ of different places!”

Byakuran nodded in agreement, “Traveling is a lot of fun.  By your accent, I’d say you’re British.”

“Yup!”  She sighed sadly, “I’ll probably wake up soon.  I wish you were real.  It’d be nice to have a friend.”

The Gesso heir laughed lightly.  “Well, since you need proof, what is your telephone number?  I’ll call you.”

Ament brightened for a moment before she sagged in disappointment.  “My relatives would never let me talk to you.  They’d probably deny my existence, actually, then I’d get in trouble.”

“Hm.”  Byakuran hummed noncommittally.  “Well, what’s your address then?  I’ll send you a letter.”

Ament laughed, “You’re not supposed to give out your address to strangers!”  She sing-songed brightly, but her eyes held a sort of desperate hope that reinforced Byakuran’s private thoughts about her living situation.

“Ah, but you’re not supposed to invite yourself into other people’s dreams, either.”  He countered reasonably.  “So really, it’s the least you can do.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Ament laughed.  This really was the greatest dream ever.  “Ament Potter, Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England.”  She wrinkled her nose slightly, “You’ll have to look up the postcode, though.  I always mess it up.”

Byakuran laughed again, but before he could say anything Ament disappeared.  “Hmm.”  He mused thoughtfully as he tapped his chin with his index finger.  “This has been quite the intriguing nap.  I wonder how she ended up here.  This is a memory from a parallel world, after all.  How exciting.”

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament woke suddenly to a wasp crawling on her cheek.

After she’d properly freaked out about it and run away, she took the time to think about the strange dream she’d had.  She really hoped-

**_No_**.

Ament closed her eyes and pushed the fuzzy feelings she was experiencing down into a distant corner of her heart and mind. 

She knew better than to believe in fairytales.

The young Potter resolutely made her way back towards Number Four and tried to think of anything else but white-haired boys and magic fire.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Okay, so maybe Ament wasn’t _quite_ as cool, calm and collected as she’d like to think.

But, just in case, (even though she hadn’t seen the boy again in her dreams- not that she’d been _looking for him_ , of course!), Ament started to get the post in the mornings without being prompted.  It gave her time to desensitize the Dursleys to it, so maybe wh- _if_ her letter arrived she’d be able to sneak it into her cupboard without them noticing.

Not that she was actually hoping that the weird figment of her imagination could possibly be real.

(You know, because then the strange things that happened around her sometimes when she got really angry or scared wouldn’t be quite so terrifying to think about.  For all she disliked the Dursleys and their obsession with ‘normal’ there had to be a reason why they were so scared whenever one of the ‘incidents’ happened, right?  If they were simple, explainable circumstances they’d never be so harsh with her- she just _knew_ it.)

So, Ament went through her normal routine- plus the morning post-gathering- and tried to not think about how _disappointed_ she was each morning when there was no letter for her.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

It had been nearly two weeks since the incident when it arrived.

Sitting there on the floor of the Dursley entryway, right on top of the pile, was a black envelope with whiteish-silver writing.

And in loopy, elegant letters was her name.

Ament grinned excitedly, as a happy, stupidly hopeful feeling bubbled up inside her chest.

However, she was quick to snatch up the post and tuck the letter into her waistband as she heard Dudley thunder down the stairs.

The great thing about wearing clothes that were _far_ too big for her was that no one was likely to notice her precious cargo before she found time to slip it inside her cupboard.

She delivered the post to Uncle Vernon and quickly slipped out of the room to dart inside her cupboard and tuck the letter under her ratty mattress before scampering up the stairs to use the loo.

Hopefully that would keep her Aunt- the most observant person in the household- from being suspicious.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament’s day dragged by _excruciatingly_ _slowly_ , but eventually she found herself inside her cupboard for the night.

Being the overly-paranoid person that she was, (she spent _far too much_ time watching Aunt Petunia derive somewhat credible gossip from the smallest details), she grabbed one of her old schoolbooks to use as a shield before she retrieved her letter.

She reverently traced her name on the cover of the envelope, savoring the way it was written so beautifully.

Ament smiled radiantly and tried to tamp down the inane urge to _cry_.

It was _real_.

The boy from the dream was _real_.

_She wasn’t alone. **There were other freaks out there**_.

Ament hiccupped quietly and quickly wiped her eyes before any of her traitorous teardrops could mar her beautiful envelope.

With shaky hands she flipped the envelope over and smiled at the name on the back.

Byakuran Gesso. 

What an _awesome name_.

She gently pried the envelope open, trying to do as little damage as possible.

The stationery was lovely.  It was white, high-quality unlined paper that had flowers imprinted in the background with elegant silver and black edging.  The ink that he’d used to write with was purple.

“ _Little Death Goddess,_

_I hope this letter finds you well!  Italy’s post sometimes takes a while, so I hope you receive it shortly!_

_Italy is still far too hot, but it is supposed to rain soon.  I actually am not as used to the weather as most of my contemporaries, as I lived with my mother, (my parents are divorced but still get along quite well), in Japan until last summer._

_I’m the heir of my father’s company, you see, and their agreement was that when I graduated from middle school, (in Japan middle school starts at age twelve and usually runs until ages fifteen or sixteen- I graduated a little early), that I would move back to Italy for high school so that I could start learning to run the company._

_It’s not so bad.  I miss Japan, especially my friend Shōichi Irie.  But I’m also having a lot of fun learning all sorts of new and exciting things when I’m not stuck in hopelessly boring business meetings._

_Well, I hope that this reaches you in a decent timeframe!_

_Most sincerely,_

_Byakuran Gesso_ ”

Ament read the letter about a hundred times, even when she could recite it from memory her eyes roved over the words.

Eventually she sat back and began to scheme.

_I clean Dudley’s room on Saturdays while Aunt Petunia does the weekly disinfecting of the loo. I ought to be able to scrounge up enough change to buy the postage I need, but I’ll have to filch an envelope and proper writing supplies from somewhere_.  Ament took a deep, excited breath as she plotted out her new scheme. 

Usually she wouldn’t dream of taking money that wasn’t hers, but she really wanted to write Byakuran and it wasn’t like she hadn’t earned the pence, right?  It wasn’t as if she was stealing large amounts of money or anything, it was just whatever Dudley had left lying around his room.

Ament looked back down at her letter and a happy grin lit up her face.

_Byakuran was real_.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall of her cupboard as, for the first time, she actually tried to reach for that strange feeling that sometimes flared through her. 

After all, if it could turn that ghastly teacher’s hair blue or make her ride the wind to the top of the school’s roof that one time that Dudley had been ‘Kitty Catching’, then maybe she could train it to unlock her cupboard?

She’d never reached for it before because it scared her, but now that she knew that Byakuran was real- that she wasn’t alone- well, maybe she could embrace her freakishness properly.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament’s tenth birthday passed with little fanfare, but she had managed to send a letter to Byakuran.

The young Potter was suddenly _drowning_ in new ideas and projects.

There was the training of her ‘tingling feeling’ to unlock the door to her cupboard, and her sudden desire to improve her handwriting, (Byakuran’s handwriting was lovely). 

Her friend was also from Italy and had lived in Japan, so now she was desperately curious about those countries and their languages.

Her free days at the library were suddenly even shorter!

Ament was proud of the bit of subterfuge that had gotten her a library card, though.

Since Dudley was allergic to academics of any kind and she was a girl, all she had to do was make sure her books were tucked under her clothes on the way home from the library and she didn’t have to worry about him damaging the books. 

Fortunately, no one ever went inside her cupboard.

Though she had decided, on a strangely chore-free day, that just because she had to live in the cupboard didn’t mean she had to live with the bugs.  She’d dragged everything out of it, (her letters from Byakuran safely ensconced inside her old textbooks), and thoroughly cleaned it.  Ament had even washed her mattress and taken it outside to dry in the sunshine.

Aunt Petunia had looked at the items cluttering the hall disapprovingly, but had let her be.

Ament had vacuumed and swept and then used warm water and Murphy’s Oil Soap to scour the inside.  Aunt Petunia had even lent the girl a fan so that the inside would dry quicker.

(Her Aunt had muttered about mold and brats, but had actually started dinner by herself so that Ament could finish her project.  Ament figured that was as close to approval as she’d ever get.)

Once her cupboard was properly dry she dragged everything back inside and reorganized things.

Standing there, in her freshly cleaned living space, Ament was quite proud of herself.

Of course, she quickly made her way to the kitchen to help her Aunt, so that she wouldn’t get into trouble.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament’s sudden desire to clean her cupboard wasn’t entirely on a lark.

Yes, she had wanted to get rid of the spiders and other nuisances, but she’d had a bigger plan in mind.  The cupboard under the stairs was actually sort-of spacious for someone of Ament’s size if she arranged it just right.

Before she’d been happy just getting by, but now that she wasn’t scared of herself she suddenly felt as if it was okay for her to do more than just _exist_.

Ament had learned the bare basics of sewing from her Aunt, as part of laundry duties was darning socks.  Ament took a few of Dudley’s discarded shirts from the laundry over the next few weeks and painstakingly patched them together so she’d have a covering for the underside of the stairs.  She couldn’t nail it up there or anything, but with some ingenuity she made do with preexisting nails or proper toeholds.

(Aunt Petunia had allowed her to keep the small darning set that was missing a few needles a few years back.  The shirts had holes that were large enough that even Aunt Petunia wouldn’t force her to wear them, so her Aunt didn’t really mind her using them.  Ament’s excuse for wanting to cover the stairs was that she didn’t want her hard work to go to waste, which Aunt Petunia had surprisingly approved of, so that was a fair bit of luck.)

This little project was just so she would stop getting sawdust rained down onto her when Dudley thundered across the stairs, however, it also allowed her to move her mattress.  This created a neat little niche for her to hide her most precious possessions, as she tacked an extra shirt onto the stair covering that hung down and framed her mattress.

She doubted that anyone who hadn’t spent as much time as _she_ did inside the cupboard would notice that the stairs didn’t actually end there, but about a foot and a half back.

This left the front part of the cupboard, (the area immediately in front of the door), open for her schoolbooks and whatnot.  However, as the stairs sort of obscured her in her new position, and the cupboard door opened outwards, it would give her an extra few moments to hide her letters if she ever needed them.

(Ament was also pleasantly surprised to find that she actually got a bit of a breeze, as the attic fan seemed to forced air down the wall.  She’d never noticed it before.)

That project took her into August, and once she’d finished it, she could start on the next part of her scheme- which was getting proper writing supplies.

Ament had gathered a fair bit of money from Dudley’s carelessness, as the boy never truly appreciated how much money her had lying around his room.  Ament made sure to only take a little at a time and put the rest in Dudley’s ‘Pocket Money Jar’ so no one would suspect her.

There was a store called Poundstretcher just a little off the path to school that Aunt Petunia always sniffed at for being ‘low class’, so that was where Ament headed instead of the library one afternoon just before school was due to start up.

Ament found a cute stationery set, some writing utensils, and a few other bits and bobs that was within her budget.

Getting them back to the house and into her cupboard had ben nerve-wracking, and since Dudley was rarely where he said he’d be, she’d had to hide in some bushes for almost a quarter of an hour, but she’d made it.

Putting her new treasures away in her cupboard had been exhilarating, despite the fact that she really didn’t like stealing the money that she’d used to buy them.

_Ah, well, can’t have everything._

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Byakuran Gesso greatly enjoyed his little penpal.

Oh, sure, she was a little girl but she was _fascinating_.

He’d try to sneak off and see her, but the Arcobaleno and the Vongola Ring Bearers were all aware of what his future alternate self had done, so he was under close watch whenever he went out.  It would lessen in a few years when he was past the age that his ‘other self’ had started really moving and shaking things, but they were all jumpy for now as he was still a student and had free time.

Because he’d _obviously_ use his free time to plot to take over the world the same way he’d already lost doing so.

_Plebeians_.

But at any rate, his little penpal was absolutely charming and he was ever-so-glad that he’d met her- even though they hadn’t shared a dream since.

(He really wanted to know why and how that happened, too!)

Byakuran suspected that Ament was a witch, but he didn’t want to tell her that when there was always a chance that her relatives could intercept her mail.

That was an annoying little obstacle.

Still, from her accounts, she mostly suffered from casual neglect- which was hurtful and wrong but staggeringly _infuriating_ to prove.

So, no real way to rush in and rescue her without causing himself a whole host of headaches.

Byakuran pouted briefly before he picked up and reread over her latest missive.  He felt a spark of pride as she detailed using his suggestions to help improve her living conditions.

Ah, well, he _did_ love challenges.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**

Ament continued to work on her ‘tingling feeling’ and writing letters to Byakuran over the course of the next year.

She was stumbling her way through Italian, trying to write sections of her letters in the language, only for Byakuran to send her next letter with corrections from her previous one.

Still, she was learning to read it, if not speak it.

Her grades had actually slipped, since she was so focused on learning about Italy and Japan and whatnot.  This, sadly, pleased her relatives, and had the happy side-effect of her getting more free time.

(Ament didn’t really question the Dursleys anymore.)

The young Potter was grateful for her work with her ‘tingling feeling’ that spring though, when the Dursleys actually had to take her along to the zoo and she’d found out that she could speak to snakes.

Dudley had come up and shoved her out of the way and she’d managed to redirect the burst of _it_ just in time.  She didn’t know what would have happened, but judging from the breeze it stirred up, probably nothing _good_.

Of course, her whole world tilted precariously about a month before her eleventh birthday, when she’d gone to get the post and found a letter from Byakuran and a strange letter with green ink on old fashioned parchment.

_Ms. Kitty Potter_

_The Cupboard Under the Stairs_

_Dursley Residence_

_What the bloody hell?  How do they know where I sleep?  Where’s the postcode?_   Ament thought confusedly.

“ **Girl**!  Are you checking for bombs?!”

Ament started slightly and with a practiced motion slipped the two letters into her waistband.  “Coming Uncle Vernon.”  She called as she padded obediently back towards the kitchen.

**―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―~~―**


End file.
